


Fade

by tarotsunset



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Feels, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Itori makes an appearance!, M/M, No Smut, Other, Secret Crush, Unrequited Love, Yomo messed up real good this time, tokyo ghoul :re - Freeform, yomouta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:59:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10596414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarotsunset/pseuds/tarotsunset
Summary: He had spoken, slowly dropping down next to him, watching the other with a strange mixture of emotions behind those grey eyes. Everything was grey, his eyes, hair, the darkened sky, the concrete.They say life flashes before your eyes, when you're dying.Spoilers for Tokyo Ghoul :re, one of these three dies. More or less canon-compliant? Written after a conversation I had with a friend on tumblr.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Major(?) TG:re spoilers. Death and grieving, depictions of violence in the beginning. Yomo fucks up. Past follows the canon for the most part, there's no real plot other than death and angst.

#### They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying.

Yet, the moment was silent, and both of them merely looked at each other, An abyssal pair of black and red orbs, glowing like heated coals, meeting a pair of eyes turning back to that cold, hard steel grey, filled with spite and hurt- The silver hair cascading down around his face. _Unearthly._

There was no flashing of memories, no events replaying in Uta’s mind, nothing he regretted, and nothing he wanted to recall with fondness. Not when his whole life was standing there, in front of him, angry, hurt, silver eyes radiating a cold, cold glow, as if freezing the time around them, blocking out all noise from the battle below, on the streets, everywhere but on the highest rooftop.

“I’m glad I got to meet you one more time, Raven-kun”  
There was blood, lots of Uta’s blood spilling to the concrete, he realized. _Guess that’s it, then._  
Renji Yomo was the first one to withdraw, still standing when Uta fell to his knees, his hand reaching to hold his abdomen, though knowing that even he could not heal from such internal damage. The Ukaku Kagune had pierced through his entire midsection, chunks of flesh, bone and internal organs shredded to pieces, rendering his kakuhou useless. Healing would not take place, not anymore. He could vaguely register the world starting to tilt as his body was unable to stand upright, expecting to hit the concrete before being able to shield himself from the impact.

Yet something caught him, slowly guiding him down.

“You’re dying, Uta.”  
Renji had spoken, slowly dropping down next to him, watching Uta with a strange mixture of emotions behind those grey eyes. Everything was grey, his eyes, hair, the darkened sky, the concrete.

“I know” He breathed out, surprised to hear his own voice still functioning.  
Red was staining Renji Yomo’s arms when he pulled Uta closer, to look at him, on the edge of the rooftop.  
“Doesn’t it bother you that it’s meaningless?” He questioned. He’d never been much of a talker, no. He spoke his mind, blunt and honest. Uta could only muster up a little smile, looking up with clouded eyes. “You weren’t fighting for a cause. It was all just for fun, like always.” He continued with a statement, observing the dying artist.  
“Not at all” Uta chuckled, coughing suddenly and painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, there was blood, staining his lips and cheeks now. “It was always for your sake, Renji Yomo-san” He rasped, using his friend’s full name.

“What-?”

The silver-haired raven was puzzled, his kagune still sparking with electricity around him, the only splash of colour amidst the grey, hues of orange-red, crimson and beautiful burgundy dancing across the entire length of the wings, one wing stained in fresh blood. Still unearthly, breathtaking. The silver-haired lifted his former friend up enough to look at him in the eyes despite his condition. He was beyond the point of saving. “What are you trying to say?” The raven sounded much more strained, much more confused, much more shaken than he would have liked. His former friend laid dying in his arms and he was the one who had caused that- but they’d been in a fight. And for some reason, when Uta had pulled back, like way back in their times in the 4th ward, Renji had not. He had seen it as an opportunity, an opening in the enemy’s defense, and he’d landed a fatal hit. “You’re a clown, dying for absolutely no reason now—“

“Finally, you hold me close, as I lay dying… one life is such a small price for—“, He paused to take in a raspy, ragged breath “-for the one thing I’ve desired for the whole duration of it, Renji.”

His stare was frightened, trying to process Uta’s words. “What…” He breathed, eyes widened and showing a genuine panic welling up behind the cold glare, suddenly becoming very aware that it had been him that was going to be the end of Uta, whether he wanted it or not. Renji Yomo wanted to flee the scene, yet he felt glued down, not wanting to miss a single thing his dying friend had to say.  
The artist looked up and smiled, eyes already clouded and dull, his red irises having lost their intensity, going dim as his grip on life was slipping, feeling oddly floaty. His memories were bubbling up- the scarce few he actually cherished.

It was them, on a rooftop.

It was Uta’s hair, light and reflecting the pale rays of the sun, soft and wispy as he jumped back to dodge yet again. The Silver-haired was young also, a vengeful spite burning in that cold, cold stare, driving him on with a purpose Uta did not fully understand. It intrigued him, how someone so young could be someone so determined- what on earth had given this cannibal freak such motivation, such purpose, such a reason to exist as hard as he could, tearing people and ghouls alike apart just to prove he could, to prove he was there, and now proving it to Uta in such a vicious manner that the adrenaline rush he was getting was exhilarating, almost scary.

It was him and Renji, still so young, up on a rooftop. Uta stood casually, looking up at him with curiosity that felt almost wrong. He wanted to know who on earth this ghoul was.  
“Hey, you like high places, Raven-kun?”

It was him and multiple others watching Renji fight, ready to flee or aid him, whichever was necessary. The dove stared with a stare even emptier, colder and more determined than what Renji’s eyes were capable of. Sadistic.  
“ARIMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-“ The raven roared, and on that moment Uta felt he understood the burning purpose behind Renji’s eyes a bit better, sympathizing with the pained, vengeful shout.

It was him, finding out Renji had been rescued by a stranger, relief flooding his brain like a drug.  
It was him, looking at his former enemy, his strange friend, wearing a waiter’s uniform and out of courtesy trying to not crack up in laughter.  
It was him when days were passing by and he noticed Renji’s coffee was improving.  
It was him, wondering why his chest ached in a dull way whenever he was alone with his thoughts.  
It was him, getting a tattoo after acquiring quinque needles, and multiple designs more already flickering through his mind.  
It was Νεχ ποσσυμ τεχυμ ωιωερε, νεχ σινε τε.  
It was the ache in his chest, the emptiness in his heart he covered up with a sun tattoo, hoping to warm up himself, to make the rays of the sun reach the empty void.  
It was fermented blood in a glass, a friend’s voice, and Renji leaning on his elbows, chin resting on his hands, his paleness reflecting off of the shiny bar counter.  
It was warmth when he saw Renji and chills creeping in when he didn’t.  
It was blood and dirt and grime when he came to visit sometimes after running errands for Yoshimura-san.  
It was them, conversing about Kaneki, the Clowns, Anteiku, Yoshimura, Aogiri, Arima, The One-Eyed King, About the CCG, the future, the sacrifices, the friends and the enemies.  
It was Uta wondering if Renji knew what _Nec Possum Tecum Vivere, Nec Sine Te_ meant.  
It was Uta wondering if this disguise he wore was too good, when Renji looked at him with desperation in his eyes and questioning their friendship when Uta was behind it all.  
It was :re and Renji’s impeccable coffee.  
It was The Auction, it was Aogiri, and it was everything else.  
It was The White Reaper.  
It was the Washuu clan.  
It was the clowns.  
It was Goat.  
It was them.  
On the rooftop.

It was Uta’s heart filling up with the warmth when the sunset painted the previously grey sky golden and heavenly, the sun shining behind Renji’s head like a halo when Uta looked at him in childish awe, it was Uta’s face melting into a smile, it was him feeling happy and warm for the first time, it was him dying in Renji’s arms, held so close, It was Renji looking down at him with a frightening realization in his grey eyes that shone silver like his hair, it was Uta smiling even more because he saw the light behind Renji paint everything with warmth and disappearing hues of gold and yellow and orange and fire and burning purpose and passion, It was Renji’s beastly wings spreading on both sides and shimmering in red and maroon and deep crimson, It was Uta’s last heartbeats filled with accomplishment and the same molten gold of the sky.  
It was Uta knowing he had reached a purpose he didn’t know he had had.  
It was a last bated breath and a breathed out “…love you” before the last bit of shimmering red in his eyes disappeared, the intense black void fading away too, having been finally filled up with the warmth- leaving only glassy white and a pair of regular irises cast up at Renji, but seeing nothing.  
And they were the colour of the molten gold, the last colour of the sky they saw before the sun dipped below the horizon, they were the colour of youth and warmth and friendliness and overwhelming love still remaining, glassy and frozen in time.

_So that’s why they were always active._

There was Renji, holding onto Uta, shaken beyond words, frozen like the night that was setting in, darkness creeping up in the horizon, coiling around them like a comforting blanket.  
There was Renji, shattered in deafening silence because he could not hear the battle going on below.  
There was a droplet of silver, and another, and a third one, welling up in his silvery eyes, rolling down and landing on his old friend’s face, no longer silvery and pure but rather, mixed with the red of his friend’s blood, painting his pale, pale skin with little streaks of washed-out red. There was a cold, empty feeling making a nest in Renji’s heart when he desperately held a lifeless body in his arms, for the first time viewing the mask maker as if Uta himself, was the masterpiece among all the art he had ever created.

There was time that passed.  
There was a battle.  
There was silence.  
There was signs of life, there was a winner.  
There was someone else alive nearby.

And Renji did not have a single word in his head. He wanted to ask questions, he wanted to explain, he wanted to turn around and see who it was, but he couldn’t let go. He was afraid, he was broken, he had lost. He didn’t know what he had been fighting for anymore, he didn’t know who won, he didn’t care.  
For a while the presence remained still before approaching, and made its way next to Renji, on the other side of their dead friend, hanging her legs over the edge of the rooftop. Renji, cradling his old friend, did not look, did not speak, and did not ask.  
They watched the sky overhead change from a dark, dark void into a hazy dark blue, then lighting up slowly, pale purple and violet painting the sky far, far ahead where neither of them could reach.

And both of them understood each other silently, understood the sky, understood they hadn’t been in the right, nor in the wrong. Neither of them spoke before the first ray of the dawn lit up the sky.

“It’s the world that’s wrong.”  
“So you never knew.”  
“I didn’t know his eyes were like that on purpose.”  
“It was a disguise”  
“Like everything else.”  
“What are you going to do?”  
“I don’t know. What is there to do?”  
“…”  
“Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I don’t think he knew, either.”  
“Yet he had to hide it”  
“He didn’t want anyone to know he had a weakness”  
“…”  
“Do you know what his neck tattoo means?”  
“He never explained”  
“Nec Possum Tecum Vivere, Nec Sine Te.”  
“I know what it says, Itori, not what it means.”  
“I cannot live with you, nor without you.”  
“Is it…”  
“For you? Yeah.”  
“In the end he couldn’t live either way, Itori.”  
“I know.”

And they both knew, They understood silently, watching a new dawn break with the colors of all art in the world, all strokes of their friend's paintbrush, painted on the sky, vibrant and yet so distant. Renji hadn't let go, not even when blood had dried and his friend, lover, loyal supporter had gone cold, for he was lonely.  
What were they fighting for? Justice? Justice couldn't possibly mean the eradication of hopeless love for a cause they did not truly believe in, no, Justice couldn't possibly mean suffering and agony for the sake of an ideology, for any cause, belief or political opinion, not if it meant burying your friends and lovers, not when it meant death.  
They say life flashes before your eyes when you're dying, but for Renji Yomo, it happened when he killed his what he thought to be one-sided love interest. Upon taking the life of what he had silently held dearest, he had lost the will to continue his.


End file.
